


Caught In Your Web

by PurpleFlowerGardener



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, High School, Mean sister, Sarcasm, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, The Rape is later on, i'll add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFlowerGardener/pseuds/PurpleFlowerGardener
Summary: Regina Tam just moved to Queens, and her sister's bitchy attitude is making the move harder, but Peter swings into her life (Pun intended) and it all of a sudden doesn't feel so bad.





	1. 1

‘Highschool is literal Hell. Smelly jocks, uncool nerds, obsessive fangirls, shallow sluts, and no one I can talk to and both of us understand’ I thought, hugging my books to my abdomen, stepping through the hallway as quickly as possible. Books, the only friend that hadn’t left.

“Move your fat ass, Regina!!!” A high, girlish voice screech from behind me and I groaned.

“Fuck off Amber,” I growled. Amber was my sister and my worst nightmare. Blonde and beautiful, she was the reason no one liked me, she always made herself look better. 

She pushed past me, shoving me into the lockers, and all of my books spilled out of my arms all over the floor. I put my face in my hands and sighed, bending down to pick them up.

“Hey I’ll uh-” A guy said. I looked up, it was a nerd. He leaned down and swept up a couple of my books that I’d dropped. I picked up my geometry textbook and folder. He had my notebook and pencil bag, full of two mechanical pencils low on lead, one unused wooden pencil, a pencil sharpener, one black pen, two blue, and a pack of mint gum. 

Our hands met as I was picking up my regular reading book, a sarcastic sci-fi novel about the future of romance. It struck me as ironic, a pair of young people meet when a girl’s books are shoved all over the floor and then their hands meet as the knight in shining armor comes to her rescue. 

“Thanks- your name is- uh-” I asked, and he smiled.

“Peter Parker. Sophomore, you?” He asked. 

“Regina Tam, nice to meet you. I’m a sophomore too.” I smiled at him. He was cute, in a puppy sort of way. 

“Cool. Are you new?” He asked he had a Queens accent, unlike me.

“Yeah, I moved here from Minnesota,” I replied, and he smiled quickly as he unloaded the last of my things back into my arms. 

“That's cool, well, I got to get to class, see you round.” He hoisted his backpack and started walking away. I hugged my books, smiled wistfully, and sprinted to class. Peter Parker was the first person to be nice to me, and I couldn’t help the warm feeling in my chest.


	2. 2

I didn’t understand why the teachers here were so intent on finding me an extracurricular activity.

Geometry- “Oh, you know a lot about this, you should join the math or chess clubs!” -Mister McAllister, 2k17.  
English- “You should join theater, you’ve got an amazing reading voice!” -Miss Jordan, 2k17.  
Art- “I think you would benefit from this school’s art competition in winter, you’ve got talent!” -Miss Jefferson (I might do that one, actually) 2k17.  
Biology- “You already know a lot about this, do you want a bump up in the curriculum? You’ll potentially be able to raise your GPA as if you hadn’t ever made a mistake in your old school's classes” -Mister Bennett, 2k17 (also might take that one) or Mr. Hottie as some girls sitting next to me whispered and giggled.

I sat alone at lunch, tired from constant attempts to make my transcript look better. I weighed the options in my head. I did like the idea of theater and art, and even the bumped up curriculum, but I recoiled at the image of my playing chess when I could be at home, doing things I really enjoyed.

I had third lunch, and Amber, a senior at that time, had sniffed when she’d seen me and sped past me to join the popular girl table, full of future trophy wives.

I ate my lunch as quickly as possible to avoid the rush of pink and blonde my sister was hanging out with, but never the less, A shrieking laugh emitted from the crowd of girls as I sped past. 

A flurry of words reached my ears “Sister?!.... Wow… boots… that skirt?...” and so on. I got out quickly and beat the mass of teens to class. I sat down in my last class of the day, Civics. I plopped in the middle of the class and stuck my nose in my book, pretending the stairs and whispers didn’t get to me. ‘How could they already hate me?!’ It was hard, but eventually, I swallowed the lump in my throat and got into the book. 

Peter Parker sat down across from me in the square of desks. Next came a chunky guy sitting next to Peter, and this girl with frizzy hair and a sour look sat down next to me shortly after the bell rang. 

This was one of those classes where you could sit wherever you wanted to, so I guess I was lucky to show up early.

The class started and the teacher began to literally. Drone. I hated it, so I began playing on my phone under my desk.

A folded piece of paper was tossed lightly onto my skirted lap. I slid my phone back into my pocket and unfolded it.

‘Be careful with your phone, this guy takes away phones at the door for a week if he catches someone on one in class.’ I read. I scribbled an ‘OK’ on the paper and made sure the girl saw it.

*Finally* the class ended and it was time to go home. I slung my backpack over my shoulders and headed out of that school. 

I started walking home, but I was quickly joined on the street by Peter Parker.

“Hey, how you doing?” He said, and I smiled, glad to have someone to talk to.

“The teachers are intent on finding me an extracurricular,” I replied, and he snorted.

“Yeah, they do that for a little while with new kids. See any you like?” He asked smiling at me.

“Well, Theatre sounds fun, but my sister Amber wants to ruin me, so probably I wouldn’t get cast if my life depended on it,” I said, my brow furrowing slightly. He frowned too.

“That sucks, I hope things get better for you,” he said. “You can sit with Ned and me at lunch If you want.” I smiled.

“Thanks, I’d like that,” I said and we walked in silence for a few steps, when I reached my house.

“Bye,” Peter said, and I smiled and waved at him as I closed the door to my apartment building. 

I jogged up the stairs and unlocked the door to my apartment, slid inside, and shut the door, ran walked to my room, and locked the door. 

I smiled to myself. Queens was about to meet its newest legend. An elusive myth exclusive to the city of St Paul Minnesota had moved to Queens because its dad had got a better job there.

My secret persona, Blade Rider, as some in MN called me, was about to hit the streets.


	3. Flash Back

My room had a window exit onto the emergency ladder, my sister had thought the window had an ugly view, so she’d taken the other one, farther from my mom and dad’s room. I was between them. It was smaller, the view was bad, but the floor had a trap door that leads to a small compartment under my desk, so I was satisfied. When I was first moved into the room, I didn’t know it existed. I was prepared to continue using the secret compartment inside my bookshelf, but it was inconvenient. It had been pressed against the wall, so I’d have to pull my shelf out every time I needed my suit. 

I stumbled on the trap door by accident, I was reading on my computer, and stomped when a plot twist angered me, and it had sounded hollow. I got down on my hands and knees and knocked on the ground. I finally pulled it up and found a fairly large compartment between the floor and the ceiling below us. I could stand in there, but it was a bad idea. 

The floor seemed flimsy, but my suit was light. It was made of stretchy, ultra strong, nearly un pierceable fabric. It had been designed by a senior in high school in my old school, a guy named Ian. He was the valedictorian, and he had all the best colleges groveling, trying to get him to attend them.

Ian was one of my best friends. I was a baby freshman, and he was strong. I was scared. 14 at the start, dealing with- the changes in my body, other than the fact I was a woman now. I was- developing powers. Ian saw me outside of school one day, he saw me catch a softball my friends and I were tossing around. I had turned around to walk home, and the ball was hit with a bat straight at my head, and even though I was not looking, I raised my hand and caught it. No problem.

He told me later that he kept observing me, watching my speed in class, reflexes, and general demeanor. I seemed to know a book was going to fall seconds before it did. 

I turned fifteen in December, and he approached me. He invited me to join the engineering club he ran. I agreed because he was cute and I’d never been approached by a senior. I got there that afternoon, and we were alone. I was frightened at first.

“I think you’re different. I think you’ve got super human powers, and I’d like to try to enhance them.” Was the gist of what Ian had said. I was intrigued by the image of me wearing a super suit and saving lives. Honestly, I shouldn't have worked with him. It just made my life harder.

We began by tossing around a softball. We snuck into some batting cages after hours, I’d snuck out for the first time in my life. I was wired on coffee and sugar, and I felt like a hyper little kid. We set up some of the ball launchers in a circle, all pointing toward me. In the center. He wired them all together so they would be able to be launched on Ian’s command. He gave me a helmet and a bat and pushed me into the center.

He started small. He sent a ball from one out at me and quickly followed by another 90 degrees to the left from the first. I blocked both easily. He steadily upped the ante, and finally, after hitting 32 balls in a row, I missed one. 

That night, I was really excited about my suddenly not scary power. I was in control of my body, and it felt amazing.

Every other night, Ian would sneak me out to work with me on the power. I never once got caught, even the time I slipped from my window and landed in the bushes, accidentally letting out a sharp cry, but not even then, I was undiscovered. 

One night, Ian took me out to the track and had me run. He handed me a granola bar and a bottle of water and I consumed them. I felt amazing. He showed me a stopwatch and told me to sprint a mile as quickly as I possibly could.

I walked up to the line, waiting for Ian to tell me to go. My heart thumped faster than usual, and my muscles in my legs twitched spasmodically. I was SO ready to run. 

“Go,” Ian said, and I took off. I ran, and it felt so good. I felt like I was riding the wind. My mind was in a place on exercise I’d never been, and I was ecstatic, like Ian’s telling me to sprint a mile was opening a box and finding a laptop on Christmas.

I ran. My body responded to my mind better than it had ever done, and it only occurred to me when I’d finished half a mile in 2 minutes, that maybe the water and granola were not as ambiguous as they’d looked, but I was on fire, feeling like an unstoppable force of nature.

I ran a mile in 2 and a half minutes. I almost ran another.

“You are magic!” Ian shouted when I’d stopped. I was getting worried at my sudden energy.

“What was in that water or granola?” I asked, my heartbeat had not slowed.

“The key to unlocking your power’s full potential,” he responded. I was frightened again.

I screamed at him. He’d drugged me against my will, given me, SOMETHING, even if it had made me feel immortal. He waved me off, telling me I was over reacting, and before I could hold myself back, I threw a punch at him. The metaphorical red tint to my vision cleared, and I looked down at Ian, curled around his stomach, moaning next to a pile of his own vomit. I’d sucker punched him so hard, he was not able to get up. I was crying, I thought I’d ruptured one of his internal organs. I was pissed, but not ‘kill one of my friends’ pissed.

He was fine. No wounds other than a black and blue bruise flowering right around and on his belly button. I’d sat down next to him to sob. I didn’t know how to react. A hand found my shoulder. I opened my red eyes, Ian was smiling wistfully.

“I should have expected that…” He said with a strained smile played across his lips.

“I’m so sorry Ian-” I began to apologize profusely. He sat up.

“It’s ok. I had it coming, and now I don’t need you to punch someone to figure out how hard you can hit.” He’d replied, taken me home.

The next day at school, he told me he couldn’t be able to sneak out anymore, and I was devastated. I figured he was offended by my losing my mind. I felt dumped.

Three weeks later, I was on my phone texting a friend who was going through an actual break up, when Ian texted me four words that made my heart soar.

“I’m outside, sneak out.” He said. My friend told me she was going to bed, and I stealthily dropped to the ground outside my window. I walked to the meeting point with Ian, and sure enough, there he was. He was on his phone, car parked just outside the light of a street lamp. I knocked on the window, and we smiled at one and other.

“I’m sorry about the absence of sneak outs. I had to work on this.” He handed me a bag, with what looked like a motorcycle suit. I didn’t understand.

“What is this?” I asked as I rubbed the fabric between two fingers. Ian laughed as he started the car. 

“It’s a highly advanced technical suit designed to minimize the wind and air resistance and keep your identity secret,” Ian said as he pulled into the parking lot of the track where I’d sucker punched him.

We got out of the car and we snuck into the storage closet where all the bleacher cleaning equipment was kept. He took parts of it apart. The legs and arms were not attached, along with the helmet. It looked just like a motorcycle helmet.

He had me undress, he turned away, and I zipped up the midpiece, and he turned around. It didn’t really fit well. He pressed some buttons on the shoulder, and it suddenly pulled all the baggy out of the suit. He had me step into the legs, playing with some settings on the shoulder again, and they attached themselves to the torso part perfectly. He did the same with the arms and hands, and handed me the helmet,

It was completely dark at first, but Ian pressed a button on the shoulder and everything lit up. Ian was completely defined, and I could see perfectly even in the dark room. I grinned at him. 

“You press the side of your helmet to open the part you see through,” Ian said, and I clumsily fumbled with the sides of the helmet until I found the button he referred to. It slid up into the plastic and the holograms below it went dark and all I could see was Ian’s face. He was the magic man.

He leaned in and kissed me. The opening in the helmet made it awkward at first, but it was wide enough to let his face through if he tilted it just so. His lips were soft and he was warm. A warm human, alive and wonderful, so different from those who surrounded me every waking minute. Ian was a living man walking among a hoard of zombies. Zombies, not interested in brains, but in material things like makeup or private jets or sex or power. Ian was above all of those corrupting things. All he wanted was peace.

The kiss was chased and did not go passed the lips, but it was worth more to me than anything else I could have asked for.

Ian had me take off the suit so he could make more progress on it. It was extremely rudimentary by his standards. He drove me home, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I fell asleep with a smile on my lips.

Six months went by. Ian continued working on the suit. I loved him, no question about it. It kept getting better, and I was given skate shoes, where I got my name. Blade rider, I would laugh with Ian, his arm draped lazily around my shoulders, our thighs touching as we watched superhero movies. It became an inside joke, the whole superhero trope.

I got good at it, I could make turns in less than a second without falling, the suit became far more advanced, and no one at school thought it was me. I learned to fight. Judo and boxing, Ian reinforced the knuckles of the suit with metal. When I wore the suit, I felt unstoppable.

Except when I was sprinting toward the man who slit Ian’s throat. Then I just felt blinding rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliff hanger :)


	4. Flashback 2

I got to Ian’s house after school, I was worried about him, he hadn’t come to school that day. He spent a lot of time in his room in the basement, so that’s where I checked first. I smiled at his mom as I greeted her. She loved me, always telling me to stick around, she really was a nice lady. I skipped over to the stairs leading down to his room, trotted down them, and knocked on his door. After no reply, I knocked again. I got a little worried and cracked open the door to his room.

He was lying partially on his desk, he looked like he was sleeping, so I smiled and stepped into his room. 

“Ian,” I called out.

“Ian!” I called out again and started to get frustrated. I walked closer to him, and my third cry of his name was translated into a strangled, nearly inhuman sound.

He looked so dead. I couldn’t handle it. His lips were blue, his wonderful eyes blank, his amazing brain inert. Tears were my first reaction. Silent tears slid from my eyes, blurring the view of his corps. I unthinkingly took his hand. It was cold and limp. The blood on his desk was long dry, yet he hadn’t begun to smell. He always kept his room extra cool, so all his tech wouldn’t burn out. He’d made himself his own morgue.

A camera was one of the next things I noticed. A camera was sitting in perfect view of Ian and me, and the red light was on. Recording. I noticed something in his other hand. A clicker. I took it out of his cold, perfect hands, and clicked it. The red light flashed off. 

My wonderful Ian had left me a gift, revenge on the one who took him from me. I plugged the camera into his TV, and fast forwarded to- to when he was killed. My tears were flowing still, but most of this was replaced by rage. I watched. A man snuck out of the darkness, and Ian stiffened, pausing slightly. The hubbub of his room’s fans and computer noise was enough to cover the man’s entrance all but perfectly. The man was stalky and short, his nose was messed up and his cheeks were sprayed with freckles, his brow perpetually furrowed. The air left my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, rage and recognition boiled in my blood. 

Mark Bracker. A teacher at the local trade school. He taught advanced engineering, and Ian had sat in on a few of his lectures. My memory flashed back to the ‘i’ll kill you’ look Bracker had given Ian after Ian had fixed the supercomputer errors with ease, a problem Bracker hadn’t been able to fix.

I was still as he stuffed a sock into his mouth. I watched calmly as he stifled Ian’s scream, and sliced his throat. I watched tranquility as Ian’s blood drained from his neck, and onto the floor as Mark slithered out his window again. I sat and watched myself smiling at his corps, and watched the look of horror and understanding spread across my face. I watched myself break. 

I knew what I had to do. I knew where to go, and I knew how to do it, too. I suited up and found a new button on the base of my pointer finger on my left hand. I clicked it as I walked toward his window next to the mirror. I watched myself disappear in the mirror. I clicked it again, and I reappeared. That was new and very useful on the scheme of things.

I clicked it again and watched in the mirror. I wasn’t completely invisible, when I moved, it looked like a mirage was shimmering around, but It was subtle. Ian’s last gift.

I don’t actually remember what happened for the next hour or so. The next time I can remember, I was outside the window of the engineering buildings. I went invisible, and I saw Mark Bracker entering a room. An odd serenity passed over me. I knew what to do, I had to kill him. There was no question about it. Mark Bracker had to die.

I opened a window, slid inside, and became visible. I flicked out my skates, giant black blades that could cut iron If I told my suit to do so. I simply put them on the lowest sharpness, and on the most dextrous turning ability. That was what I was usually kept them on, but Ian had been working on them so my settings were weird.

Professor Mark Bracker walked out of his classroom, holding a large folder full of papers to grade.

“Professor, If I were you, I’d run,” I said into the voice modulator. He looked at me, and fear was struck into his heart. I slipped one of the long, think knives out of its holster at my hip, choosing a smaller one, more personal. 

Professor Bracker dropped his folder and started running down the hall away from me. I kicked off the ground, hopped his papers, and began my rage filled chase. I couldn’t think straight. The only thing in my head was his blood spilled. No being a hero, no keeping my Identity secret, just killing him.

It didn’t take long to catch him. I kicked him in the back with one of my blades, increasing the sharpness, and blood flowered on his lower back. He landed face down. I hated this man more than words could express. He started flailing, screaming for help. The pathetic old man who doesn't accept the fate he made for himself. 

I clicked a few buttons, and lowered my boot soul to his neck, and shot the blade in that foot out as fast as I could. I had it on blunt, and before he was decapitated, I crushed his bones and neck in on themselves, so he could experience the agony of airlessness he’d provided to Ian.

I fiddled with the buttons on my thigh and sliced his head off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be back in the present.


	5. 5

I slid down the ladder like a pro. I’d never done it before, but I had practice making quick escapes, like after I’d killed Professor Bracker.

I dropped onto the pavement, invisible, and slid into an alley. I breathed deeply, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn’t have to worry about the backlash of Bracker’s death, here, were probably the average citizen had never been to Minnesota.

I stretched out my back and started walking down the alley, looking for trouble. The only trouble I found in that alley was some trash and a hobo. I fished out my wallet and gave him a five, all the cash I had on me, and moved on. Over the honk of the horns, I could hear some yelling. I skated out of the alley, climbed up onto a concrete overhang, looking around. I saw a guy holding gun, and the wonder of an actual crime excited me. 

I jumped. I had the reinforced metal, and the suit anticipated my actions. I long jumped the three lane road, landing on the wall, sliding down the wall, and kicking the gun into the guy’s balls, and he crumpled to the ground, wailing. 

The shop owner he’d been about to rob eyes were as big as saucers. I gave him the thumbs up, and mimed calling 911, and went invisible.

I forgot to mention Ian’s hard drive. He had designed millions of accessories for me, and I’d been able to interpret and build some of them, with help from some of Stark industries interpretation software. The few things I’d been able to make were simple, by Ian’s standards. 

I’m no slacker when it comes to brains, but Ian was so far advanced than me, the stuck equipment was insanely difficult to build, and harder to incorporate into the suit. The file with the sticking equipment was labeled ‘next’ in his computer, so that’s what I’d built. It was a special code and incorporation of a textile into some parts of the suit that could when I wanted it to, help me cling to things, like buildings. I felt like I needed to explain the ability to jump and stick to things.

I wandered around the city invisible for a while longer, picking off some mild crimes, so I just decided to scale a building and listen to music. As the counting in the start of Vegas Lights by Panic! At The Disco started to play in my helmet, a red streak flashed over my half closed eyes as I lay on the roof of some apartment building near the ocean. 

I figured I’d hallucinated it, but no, a guy dressed in a red and blue skin tight suit landed onto the roof. He let a string of gossamer thread shoot out of his wrist, onto my right foot. I looked over at him, as I’d stood up to run away or talk to him. I laughed as I stopped my music from playing. I gave him the finger as I cut through the web with my left foot’s blade.

“I’ve got to say, your swinging gimmick is pretty fun, but I’m thinking you could get hurt, New York’s a big place, you know,” I said after turning on my mic.

“I could say the same about you, who are you anyway?” Spider-man asked, and I took a bow.

“Blade Rider, at your service. You’re Spider-man, I’m guessing?” I asked and he returned the bow. “So what do you want?” I asked sarcastically. I was not too fond of this guy, he honestly was annoying, more like nat-man.

“I was wondering why you stole my work earlier? I mean, this is my city.” He asked, sitting down on the roof, and for some ungodly reason, I joined him.

“You sound like Batman. I saw a man in danger and got him arrested. Really, Batman, I think we are working on the same front.” I said, lazily lying down on my back, tilting my helmet at him.

“Don’t call me Batman.” He said, sounding hurt.

“What, did I hurt your tiny spider feelings?” I asked sarcastically.

“Fuck you too,” he said, standing up. I stood up next to him.

“Honestly, I’d rather not. I’ve got to go, nice chat though.” I said, flipped him off, and dematerialized. I heard him curse under his breath, and I laughed.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. 

“Really, people's reactions to me becoming invisible is worth the injuries I get from this job. Bye, bye Spider-man!” I jumped off the roof and began skating in the bike lane, avoiding the actual bikes.

I climbed the ladder to my room, undressed really quickly, throwing on my PJ shorts and a t-shirt on quickly, and began to power work on my homework, working quickly as I could.

I finished my homework in record time, finishing the last word in my assigned chapters of To Kill A Mockingbird just as my mom knocked on my door to call me to dinner.

“Honey, Nachos!” She said, and I jumped out of my desk chair and was out the door in seconds.

Amber was sitting at the table, texting. Her resting face was not as hateful as her usual one. 

No one talked as I filled my plate with nachos and left for my room. My dad was on his computer, Amber was reading on her phone, and my mom was watching TV from the table.

Once I was back in my room, I just watched some tv on my laptop and texted some of my old friends from Minnesota. 

I looked at my clock, and since I had nothing better to do, I suited up again and climbed out the window. Another session of making the city a better place seemed in order.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rape happens in this chapter. When you see ... is when it starts and ends.

School the next day was not a good experience. I was wearing a white button up shirt from a year ago, and let's just say people’s eyes were not drawn to my face. I’d gotten up and just thrown it on along with a black plaid skirt and some white socks with my red converse, I looked like an extra in a back to school commercial.

The school was improving, I smiled at people in the hallway, and they didn’t ignore me. Peter and his friend Ned invited me to sit with them at lunch. They were nerds, but they were interesting to talk to. It beat being whispered about while I sat alone, unable to concentrate.

“Wow, that's actually pretty cool,” I said after Ned explained the whole academic decathlon thing to me.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d know ALL about cool, wouldn’t you Regina?” I stiffened at Amber’s snake whisper, a whisper she pretended was only meant for me.

“It baffles me that we came from the same genetic makeup,” I replied in full tones.

“I’m sure you’re baffled a lot, not understanding anything about anyone of any value.” She hissed quietly, looking toward Ned and Peter

“Yeah, You look more like a lower primate to me,” I replied. Amber straightened up, looking offended. 

“Takes one to know one, Bitch.” She replied, and stalked off, like the lower primate she is. I sighed.

“Sorry about her. I don’t know why she’s like that.” I said, shrugging. Ned laughed.

“It’s fine, we’ve had worse bullies,” Ned said and he shared a look with Peter.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” I asked. “I need to not think about Amber.” I waved my hands around my head, waving away imaginary flies.

They told me stories of dumb bullies, funny stories, and some stories of heartbreak, the trials, and tribulations of a normal school day.

…

‘The school newspaper is an incredibly difficult job in this new high school’ Amber thought, exhausted. At least she was done for the week, planning on getting done early that week was difficult, but now Amber had after school on Thursday and Friday completely free, and the extra stress of the previous days was worth the prize.

Amber wore a pair of skin tight blue yoga pants and a fashionable baggy tank top that made her look very trendy, Amber had gotten a lot of compliments today, and she absolutely craved the approval of the masses.

As Amber stepped down the street at five o'clock at night, the sun was low in the sky, and Amber could feel something was wrong. She felt, watched. She clutched her purse to her hip, she’d been mugged on the subway once, and it was NOT a pleasant experience. Minnesota had never gotten her mugged.

She heard some sniggering from behind her and sped up. Walking fast in five-inch heels was a challenge, but Amber was practiced at this feat. The people behind her started walking faster too. Amber ducked into a store, a small craft shop with green curtains and gold painted window frames. A tall man with long black hair, blue eyes, and very pale skin was tending the desk. His cheekbones were like a fucking snow plow.

“You alright?” The man asked a slight British accent adorned his voice.

“Yeah, I just need to talk with my friend.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up Regina in her texting app.

“I’m in the craft shop with green curtains on our route home, If I’m not home within 15 minutes, please come find me. I think I'm being followed. Please, I know I’ve been a bitch, but are you going to let me be kidnapped?” She sent it and got a hold of her breaths, shoved her phone back into her pocket, and approached the door.

Her hand was having trouble following her commands and shook as it turned the knob to open the door. Amber stepped outside, surveying the terrain. She saw no trace of the guys following her, so she began briskly walking towards her house. 

She came to the first alley and stopped to look inside, and it was empty but for a few dumpsters. Amber let her guard down, unfortunately. She walked on.

A hand reached out of the next alley and grabbed her hand, the hand was attached to the quarterback of the football team, her boyfriend.

“Holy shit, Justin!” She shouted, putting and hand over her chest. The adrenaline was making her jumpy.

“Hey babe, you gotta come see this!” Justin said, smiling charismatically. Amber followed him into the alley, farther back, her internal monologue was shouting at her to run, run! But Amber continued to follow Justin, he’d protect her if there was some sort of danger, -wouldn’t he?

She got to the end of the alley, and Justin rested his left hand on her lower back. When she didn’t tell him, no, his hand was joined by his other, on her hips, sliding lower. The danger in the situation was no longer just around, it was Justin. He grabbed her ass, hard, not even a little squeeze from a cute horny boyfriend. It had a sense of malice around it. Amber’s stomach clenched, and Amber stepped away from him, wanting to go home.

“Justine, I’ve got to get home,” She said, and his face fell. 

“Nah, babe! Come on just a little…” His words trailed off as Amber took two steps away from him, and he grabbed her wrist. 

“Let go of me!” Amber said forcefully, “This isn’t funny, Justin!” Justin pulled her behind the building, a small space with a dumpster and a door into the buildings. He pressed her against the wall, and Amber froze up. Justin looked into her eyes for half a second and then aimed his eyes squarely at her breasts. As she breathed harder, but she knew all it was doing was making them move, something she’d heard the guys talking about in the hall, talking about ‘bouncing breasts’ or something perverted like that.

Justin put his hand on her hips, eliminating her last chance to escape. He was a big guy, Amber was terrified. 

He pulled off her shirt by holding her hands above her head, Amber petrified into submission. His hands unclasped her bra, her only bra that unclasped in the front. She just had to wear that one. Justin placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her into a kneeling position, and unzipped his fly.

“Please stop-” Amber whimpered, Justin rolled his eyes.

“If you scream, I’ll make you suffer. Now suck me like you’re sick and I’m the cure.” he pulled out his cock and pushed it into her face. Amber moved her face to the side, and he growled something and shoved her against the wall.

He filled her mouth. She began to cry, feeling so little and stupid- Maybe if she had done it before when he’d asked, after school under the bleachers, maybe he wouldn’t be forcing her to do it now. 

His hands were in her hair and he was sighing, moving her head back and forth, and Amber felt her gag reflex triggering, and he CHUCKLED at the sound she made. The trust she’d had in Justin, the safety she’d felt in his company, Amber’s whole world seemed to crumble around her with every movement of her head and neck.

Her throat was coated with a warm substance, and Justin sighed, his head thrown back, relaxing his hold on her hair. She was finally able to spit him out, her silent crying turning too ugly sobbing. 

“Aw, come on-” Justin shoved his dick back into his pants and zipping up his pants. “Stop crying. This was going to happen anyway, so be glad it was now rather than when it would have been worse. At least I’m not some weirdo.” he said and started walking toward the street. Before he left, he looked back at her. “If you tell anyone, I will make it worse. I promise you,” he said, and he was gone. Amber curled up in a ball, cold.

…

“I’m in the craft shop with green curtains on our route home, If I’m not home within 15 minutes, please come find me. I think I'm being followed. Please, I know I’ve been a bitch, but are you going to let me be kidnapped?” Read a text from Amber.

“Shit.” I murmured under my breath. I stopped on the sidewalk, pedestrians stopping to stare at me. I climbed up the roof of the building I was trying to catch a criminal in and looked around. Where was Spiderman when you needed him?

I watched some tall buildings. I had noticed him swinging around in them earlier, but now he was gone.

“Looking for someone?” Someone said. I turned, and there he was.

“You’re just the person I was looking for. There is a guy inside who’s about to rob a bank below us, I’ve got to go save my- a friend of mine.” I said, standing in, what I hoped looked like, a superhero stance.

“Ok, I’ve got it.” He jumped off the building and landed in the fight below.

I went invisible and jumped to street level, and reached the craft store in no time. I clicked on my speakers and voice modulator. I pulled up a recent image of Amber she’d posted on her Facebook, and rematerialized. 

“Excuse me, have you seen this woman today?” I asked the tall black haired man behind the register. He looked at me, clearly impressed with my suit.

“Nice costume. She went that way after texting for a little while.” He pointed down the street, the way we go to get home.

“Thanks,” I replied and left. I searched the first alley, there was nothing down it but some trash and dumpsters, so I continued to the next, where I found her.

“Oh god, Amber!” I said unthinkingly about the consequences of her seeing me in my suit. She looked up at me, shivering. It was early fall, and she wasn’t wearing a shirt or bra for that matter. Her face was wet, and white stuff was at the corners of her mouth. The four letter word entered my head that made my blood run cold, a word all women are terrified of. The word that makes us carry a small weapon.

She looked up at me, and all the hatred of her words at lunch and distance at home melted away. She was the older sister who helped me get up after I crashed my bike and led me home, who taught me how to apply makeup. My sister was in trouble, and that was all that mattered. 

I knelt next to her and sat her up. She looked up into my face mask, no recognition in her eyes. I turned on the speakers.

“Are you physically injured?” I asked, and she burst into tears, shaking her head. She hugged me, and I hugged her back as best I could. After a while of her shaking instead of full out sobbing, I untangled her arms from me and found her bra and shirt. I handed them to her and she put them on and helped her up. I sat her down on a wooden crate and stood up.

“I’m going to find your sister. Regina Tam, right?” I asked, and Amber nodded. “I’m gonna go get her, She’ll be here soon, ok?” I said and she nodded. She looked so broken, I wanted to cry.

I walked slowly toward the exit, looking back toward her every so often, and went invisible once I couldn’t see her anymore. I sprinted faster than I’d ever gone, stopping at our apartment and climbed into my room and clothes faster than I’d thought I ever could. Once I was clothed once again, I ran quickly but normal quick to the Alley way where Amber was. I skidded to a halt and looked at her. She was laying in the fetal position. 

“Amber, oh fuck, we gotta get you home!” I said as I helped lift her onto her feet. I pulled a Kleenex out of my pocket and handed it to her, and she wiped whoever’s cum off the corners of her lips.

“Did you know that Blade Rider came and helped me?” she whispered and sniffled. I nodded.

“She came and got me. I was hanging out with some friends, and she just appeared out of nowhere and told me you were here and needed help. Pretty cool, eh?” I said as I helped her out of the alley and began walking toward home.

“Yeah.” She said. I tried to talk to her more on the way home, but she didn’t respond. She dragged her feet, and I would have sold my soul to the devil to see her angry at me over my social status in an instant just so she wouldn’t have this horribly broken look. She stared at the ground, her shoulders hunched and every step seemed to weigh her down.

Finally, we got home, and luckily our parents weren’t home yet. I walked her into her room, and set her down on her bed and sat down next to her.

“He made me go down on him.” She said, staring at the wall blankly.

“Who did it?” I asked. She shrugged. 

“I didn’t-” her voice broke, and she cleared her throat and rubbed her neck. “I didn’t see his face.” She looked at me and gulped. It looked like she was in a lot of pain.

“You need Advil? I know that it will hurt.” I gestured to her neck. She shook her head.

“I don’t think I can swallow without throwing up right now.” She whispered, and I nodded. 

“I understand. Do you want to talk about it?” I said, and Amber shook her head.

“I don’t-” She gulped. “Not yet.” She said and leaned on me. I hugged her, and the two of us just stayed like that for a long time. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you recently.” She whispered about 15 minutes after she told me she wasn’t ready to talk. 

“I don’t care about that anymore,” I replied, and the silence resumed. I heard some footsteps outside Amber’s door. 

“Honey?” My mother’s voice echoed from behind the door. Amber looked at me with fear.

“Pretend my boyfriend broke up with me!” Amber whispered wildly. I hugged her and she started sobbing quietly into my shirt. Mom opened the door slowly, and she saw us. 

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” My mom asked, and Amber began wailing into my shoulder. 

“Her boyfriend broke up with her, called her some really mean things,” I said to mom, who came and sat down next to Amber.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.” she hugged her, and Amber smiled without feeling.

Our mom badgered her into eating a little pasta for dinner, and she was hardly able to contain the look of pain that swallowing caused her. After dinner, I ran to my room and grabbed my school bags and went back to Amber’s room. I found her sitting against the wall, staring at her posters, a mixture of boy bands and Shakespearean plays. I sat down next to her.

“He cornered me in the alley, I tried to tell him no-” She said after a little while. “But I couldn’t. The way he did it made me feel like it was my fault.” She said without tears. Only sadness and astonishment adorned her face.

“It’s never your fault, got it? He’s the one who forced you.” I said, and Amber leaned into me.

“He told me if I told anyone what he did, he would make it worse,” She sniffled and hiccuped.

“I will protect you, Amber. I’ll make sure whoever did it will never come near you again,” I said and paused. “Or any other woman.” Amber shook a little, and after a second, I could tell it was a small giggle.

“What are you going to do?” She asked, and I knew.

“Not me.” 

“Blade Rider.”


	7. Chapter 7

I don’t understand how Amber recovered from being raped so quickly. I held her in my arms while she slept, and when she woke up, it was like she acted like it wasn’t killing her. She spoke to me about it in an ‘it couldn’t have been avoided so let’s just move on with our lives’ mentality. Worst of all, she refused to tell me anything about who did it. She told me that she was going to avoid the man who did it and try to get future girlfriends of his to break up with him, to protect herself and them. 

I kept telling her that wasn’t enough, she needed to press charges, she stood firm. I couldn’t understand her mentality, so I watched her through school. She was nice to me, and it felt weird. She wasn’t mean and diverted her friend's attention away from me when I walked past. I saw her boyfriend try to talk to her, but she said something to quiet for me to hear, and he walked away from a smirk on his face, and she seemed to crumble a little bit. 

Amber walked home with me, explaining that she was done with work at the newspaper for the week, and so she walked with me. Honest to god, she seemed fine, until we shut the door to the apartment. Her shoulders slumped and the light left her eyes. It looked like the weight of the world had landed on her.

We walked to her room, and she lay back against the wall and shut her eyes.

“I think I’ve got a guess on the identity of who did it,” I said as I sat down next to her to start working on my laptop, a book report.

“I think it’s best if you don’t pursue it,” Amber said, eyes still shut.

“How are you ever going to be comfortable walking the streets if you know he’s still out there?” I asked, baffled at her indifference.

“I’m not, but I know what is best for my state of mind. What Justi-” She stopped talking. Her eyes bugged out of her head, and she wasn’t breathing. I could see the potent fear in her eyes.

“I thought so,” I said and she seemed to freeze into a marble statue of herself. I sighed. “I promise I won’t do anything until you realize it isn’t ok for him to go unpunished.” I stood up, “In the meantime, I’m going to nag the hell out of you to get off your ass and we’ll kick his.” I walked out of the room with my books and laptop. I was upset, but it bugged me more that she wasn’t. I knew Amber, and she DIDN’T let things go.

I walked into my room and locked the door. I wasn’t really happy about the lock on my door, the door was older and the lock actually unlocked if you banged on the door hard enough. It was better than nothing I guess, but I still wished I could get it replaced. I’d asked my parents for chores to pay for it, but when my mom and dad heard what I was going to buy, they denied my wish for better privacy.

I finished my homework quickly. I’m alright at writing papers, so I figured I could edit it the next day. It was due on Monday, and I’ve gotten away with closer calls. One time, I wrote the entire paper two school hours before class and got a B+, my best procrastination grade to this date.

I stripped down to my plain underwear, there were grey paisley printing on them and a black bra. it wasn’t anything special, but it was still comfortable. I pulled on the torso and leg pieces of my suit, and I heard a tap at my window as I was about to zip up the side of my torso piece. There, in the window, me with my face (and side boob) exposed, was Spider-man. I signed. I guessed that my secret identity was pretty much down the toilet. I quickly zipped up my torso piece and pulled on my arm and handpieces, I pulled on my helmet, and walked to the window, opening my faceplate. I cracked open my window.

“Didn’t mommy ever teach you not to peep at women changing clothes?” I asked condescendingly. 

“See, she would have, but she died when I was four,” he replied, pushing past me and sliding into my room.

“And I suppose Pops taught you it was a good thing?” I replied, snapping at him.

“See the thing is, the same thing happened to pops. The plane went down, both of em’ in it.” He said, leaning against the window frame. 

“So let’s cut to the chase, are you going to spill the beans about who I am?” I asked, leaning my head back against the wall. I was tired and I was only just about to leave.

“Regina, I understand the whole secret identity deal. I won’t tell.” He said, and laughed. “Just don’t forget, I know who you are.” Spider-man began to exit my room via the window. Anger bubbled through my veins. ‘Who the fuck does this spider-fucker think he is?!’ I thought wildly.

I stood up and followed him to the window. He had his leg still in my room, and I readied one of my trackers in my hand. I shoved his heel out of my window, and the tracker stuck to his ankle.

“Bye Douchebag!” I called after him as he flailed and shot a web at a building. I smiled maliciously. I’d track that fucker down, and find out who he was, then he wouldn’t be able to blackmail me. I decided that the city would be ok without me for a day.

I sat down on my bed and opened my laptop, and fired up my tracking app and turned on the video app. I almost immediately got motion sick from the app, but I watched him swing from building to building. I undressed, pulled on my robe, and put away my super suit. I went into the kitchen and made some hot chocolate, and checked on Amber. 

I was immensely worried about her, and when I opened the door to her room and found her on her computer, she was working on her homework like a maniac. I think she was burying her feelings in her work. 

I walked back to my room with my hot chocolate in hand, popped open the app again, and watched as Spider-Man saved a building from being robbed. It went on like that for a while. It didn’t have audio, so I couldn’t hear him taunting the bad guys, but it was obvious he was.

Soon, he approached a building, and instead of doing something badass, he climbed in a window. I watched as he walked around, and suddenly, it went dark. Not like it had been turned off, but like something was covering the lens. Soon, it was shaken off, and I saw a lanky but muscular man wearing nothing but boxers stepping away from the suit.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from giggling. He pulled a shirt from a dresser and then some jeans over his boxers, and then he turned back toward the camera, and I stopped laughing. 

As Spider-man had known me, I knew Spider-man. 

Peter Parker.


End file.
